


You Fit Me Better

by illyriazshell



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriazshell/pseuds/illyriazshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they raid their parents houses for items to use in their new apartment, Dave discovers a box in Kurt's basement that gives him  an interesting idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fit Me Better

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Val and Joey, since I've long owed them some Kurtofsky smut. This is not all the Kurtofsky I owe them, but I hope it works at least as a down payment.

“’Costumes and uniforms’?” Dave quiered, holding up the large brown cardboard box and looking at Kurt incredulously. He whistled, impressed. “I remember you being brave back in high school, but keeping this stuff in your dad’s house? At that age? _Wow._ ”

Kurt’s eyes widened and he weaved his way through the mountains of boxes before lightly smacking a chuckling Dave with the old fan he’d just re-discovered.

“Oh my god! It’s not a box of…” Kurt mumbled under his breath, “… _sex costumes,_ if that's what you're thinking.”

“Pride?” Dave asked earnestly.

“No,” Kurt droned, grabbing the box and playfully tearing it out of Dave’s hands. “It’s literally what it says on the tin. They’re all the costumes and uniforms I got from clubs, back when I was at McKinley.”

Kurt plopped the box down on the nearest stack of boxes, unfolding the flaps at the top.

“See?” he angled the box sideways so Dave could peer in.

“Some of it still looks like sex stuff,” Dave mused, and Kurt grabbed the first article of clothing on the pile, chucking it at him playfully. When it fell on the ground, Dave realized it was the white ‘Likes Boys’ shirt he’d seen Kurt perform in years ago.

“That’s because it’s mostly glee club costumes.” Kurt shook his head as he started pulling through the boxes contents. “Mr. Schuester was weird.”

“Yeah,” Dave laughed. “Dude needed to get laid, clearly.”

“Oh, did he ever. Several of these costumes are the results of him trying to accomplish exactly that, in fact.” Kurt reminisced absently before he froze, realizing what he said. “Not with us, obviously.” His face blanched. “I hope.”

Dave snickered as he slunk up behind Kurt, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his head over Kurt’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck. Kurt relaxed into the embrace, letting out a small sigh as he continued to riffle through.

“But yeah, considering the number of new outfits we had to wear on a weekly basis, I’m kinda surprised that there isn’t more in here.” Kurt pondered. “Though, to be fair, I found fashionable ways to incorporate most of them into my wardrobe at one point or another. This is really just a collection of the hopeless cases that my dad was too nostalgic about to throw away.”

“You sure?” Dave teased, reaching in the box and pulling out the amusing item he’d spotted, dangling a golden bowtie before Kurt. “You never once opened this box to take your own stroll down memory lane?”

Kurt slapped the accessory out of his hand, sending it flying behind a stack of boxes across the room. “Ugh, I hope that horrid, tacky thing gets stolen by a racoon or something.”

After a moment, Kurt hit the bottom of the box, shrugging.

“Yep, nothing salvageable, as I figured.” He stood tall, primly. “Good to know my taste was still flawless back in high school. Might as well seal this up with packing tape and hide it in the furthest, darkest corner of the basement so my dad can’t find it and use it to mock me at my wedding or something.”

But a flash of red and white caught Dave’s eye and he stopped Kurt’s hands from closing the flaps.

“Wait!”

He dug in, grasping at a handful in the hopes he would pull out what he thought he’d seen on first go. He ended up pulling out two articles of clothing, the one he’d thought he’d seen, and one that he wasn’t expecting. Both sent shivers down his spine.

“You couldn’t think of a single use for either of these?”

“Um,” Kurt hesitated, twisting nervously on the spot. He tentatively reached forward, plucking both the cheerleading top and the _football jersey_ out of Dave’s hands. He joked nervously. “Well, I could never find a scarf to match…”

Dave leaned down to whisper huskily in Kurt’s ear. “Burt and Carole still gonna be out for a couple of hours?”

“Uh huh,” Kurt responded, voice cracking on the second syllable. “They said they’d be back at five to help us load stuff into the moving van.”

“Can you put it on?” Dave asked, practically purring.

“You want me to…” Kurt stuttered out, holding up the top. “I…don’t think it’s going to fit. My chest and arms were a lot smaller back then…”

Dave groaned at the imagery of Kurt’s upper body bulging through the top, the material stretched taut over his admittedly broader chest, the seams nearly ripping on the fabric covering his biceps. He squeezed Kurt’s stomach and pressed himself up against Kurt’s back, realizing how hard he was becoming at the mere thought.

“No,” he corrected. “Not the cheerleading top.” He motioned his head towards Kurt’s other hand. “I meant the jersey.”

“Really?” The surprise in Kurt’s voice was evident. “I won McKinley a national championship in that cheerleading uniform, I’ll have you know. That jersey, on the other hand, only saw one victory, which was blown a week later when we lost again. Besides, I was only ever on the football team to prove to my dad I was straight, and you can see how well that turned out.”   

Kurt smiled cheekily, turning his head to the side, leaning back and pressing their mouths together. Dave moaned as he felt Kurt swipe his tongue along his lower lip.

“Obviously it was super effective,” Dave joked as they broke the kiss. “I mean, _I_ played on different football teams for years, and I think I’ve proven I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Mmm,” Kurt hummed, brushing his fingertips softly against the hand that rested on his stomach. “I’ve bet you’ve had your fair share of locker room inspired fantasies.”

“Well, clearly I’ve always only ever had a thing for jocks,” Dave deadpanned.

But Kurt took it in stride. “Oh, believe me, I know how that goes. Except for that one time…”

Dave shut his boyfriend’s mouth with another kiss, feeling him go boneless in his arms, sighing. He probed his tongue against Kurt’s pursed lips, and felt the smaller boy’s mouth give way. Their kiss deepened, tongues caressing each other as they sucked lightly on each other’s mouths, angles continually shifting as they rotated their heads, building up a steady rhythm of aching need.

Eventually Dave pulled back, slightly breathless. “Please?”

Kurt’s eyes fluttered; he was clearly coming back from another world entirely. “Please what?”

Dave smirked, priding himself on having such a pleasant effect on his boyfriend. “Please, can you just wear the damn jersey while I go down on you?”

That seemed to snap Kurt back to reality. He chanced a glance sideways, eying the staircase and biting his lip. He tilted his head, looking back over his shoulder, and once his eyes connected with Dave’s he let out a fake exasperated sigh. “I _guess_ …”

Dave laughed as he gripped Kurt’s wrist and lifted it over his head, spinning Kurt out of his arms and backing him slowly into a much more steady pile of boxes. Kurt started unbuttoning his complicated top, something he always insisted on doing himself because members of Mensa would have difficulties removing the puzzle that was Kurt Hummel’s attire. After a moment, Kurt shed the thing completely, and Dave took that as a cue to sink to his knees, only slightly uncomfortable on the cold concrete floor. But Dave was too focused on the task at hand to be all that concerned.

He looked up and watched as Kurt pulled the old nylon garment over his head, and even though he didn’t fill it completely, Dave had been around football jersey’s long enough to know that thing wouldn’t have stood a chance if Kurt was wearing padding. Dave’s cock twitched at the mental image.

He reached forward and slowly drew the material into his hands, weaving the bottom through his fingers, appreciating the integrity of the stitching and the softness of the fabric. Kurt had clearly taken care of the jersey in the few weeks he’d had to wear it, and on top of that, it had barely been used.

“Yes, it’s practically a virgin,” Kurt taunted, and Dave realized he’d been voicing his appreciation out loud. Kurt winked. “As was I, the last time I wore it, if that does anything for you.”

For the first time since he’d started toying with this scenario, he blushed, chuckling through his embarrassment. “That’s not…” he babbled, “it’s not about anything twisted like that.”

“That’s not _so_ twisted, to be quite honest,” Kurt answered thoughtfully, and Dave smiled.

“No, but it’s more like,” Dave searched for the right words. “Like, you were on the team _before me_. I heard the guys tell stories of practise, I saw you winning that football game. You were…you. Even surrounded by a couple dozen meatheads who gave you nothing but grief, even if you were trying to pretend to be something you’re not, you were still _you_. Proud and brave, dance moves and all.”

Kurt softened at the words, looking down at Dave affectionately as he reached a hand out to cup his cheek. “You really think that? All I can see when I look at this thing is a scared little boy who wasn’t being honest with himself.”

“Maybe that’s because you remember seeing me in it more than you saw yourself in it?” Dave offered. Kurt sucked in a breath.

“Oh, honey, no.” He brought a hand to Dave's mouth. “David, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s fine. I’m good, I swear.” Dave ran his hands up and down Kurt’s skinny-jean clad legs reassuringly. He remembered their discussion about trying to analyze their fantasies, so that they could play them out better. “That’s kind of what this is about though, I think. Finally having the courage to be myself while _that_ jersey is staring me in the face. Even if it’s just the two of us around to see it.”

“Well, I personally think it would be a monumental leap forward if we performed this little routine in front of the whole team on game night, but I was always a sucker for the spotlight.” Kurt twisted his mouth, clearly holding back a smirk. “So you want it to stay on the whole time, then?”

Dave grew bolder at Kurt’s barely concealed excitement, reaching out a hand to unclasp Kurt's belt buckle. “Definitely,” he answered, pulling the leather through the loops. He leaned his head forward and nuzzled his nose against the hardness in Kurt’s pants. Kurt moaned at the pressure, clearly relishing the feeling of Dave’s hands wandering up and down and around Kurt’s thighs.

Soon Dave’s hands reached under the cover of the jersey, unhooking the button and finding Kurt’s zipper, slowly pulling it down. His view was blocked, but he could feel as the material opened over the bulge. His hand reached forward, eliciting a shudder above him as it met the soft, smooth skin of Kurt’s cock, rarely shielded by briefs when his pants were this tight. Dave tugged the material down, hard because it was skin-tight, and only managing to lower Kurt’s pants a few inches, but it was fine because at least the teeth of the zipper were out of harm’s way. He trailed his fingers upwards before his hand found the base, gripping strongly and causing Kurt to moan.

Dave was salivating at witnessing the tenting of the jersey. He moved from being eye level with it to ducking below, pulling the material tight over his head with one hand, and staring at Kurt’s body only for a few seconds, appreciating the red tinge of covering everything, from Kurt’s chest to his abdomen, his hips and his legs, and finally the naked cock jutting out before him, it’s usual soft pinkness darkened considerably in the coloured shade.

Dave licked his lips, then stuck his tongue out to swipe at Kurt’s head, hearing a hiss above him and feeling a hand grasp at the back of his head through the jersey. Dave took that as a signal to proceed.

But before he did, he looked up and around in the pale red light filtering through the mesh, triggering memories of pulling that jersey over his own head years ago. He felt suddenly slightly claustrophobic, remembering how restrictive it had been as he’d been desperate to blend in. But on the other hand, it had also felt like home, something he wanted to do; not just to prove to himself that he wasn’t “fancy” or some other term that Kurt had long since taught him had been effeminophobic, but because he’d loved football, loved sports in general. He was gay. He was also a jock. For the longest time, he’d been completely unable to reconcile those two identities, and his own jersey had been the symbol of that inner turmoil.

But now, he reasoned as he glanced around, he had moved far past that. Now was the time to show that fucking thing who he, Dave Karofsky, really was. That he was someone who could do what he was good at and love who he wanted; that they needn’t be mutually exclusive. This had been a long time coming.

He wet his lips with his tongue and moved forward, sinking his mouth slowly around Kurt’s cock, feeling a jolt of satisfaction and accomplishment rocket through him. It helped of course that Kurt himself let out a groan of approval all his own; the deep, throaty growl echoing around the basement.

Dave sucked Kurt’s length fully, relishing the weight of it on his tongue, enjoying the dull ache as the suction pulled at his cheeks. He slid his hands up the back of Kurt’s legs, fingers settling at the junction of his perfect ass and supple thighs, giving firm, appreciative squeezes. Soon, caressing gave way to movement, and Dave started bobbing his head up and down Kurt’s shaft, making sure to keep his lips moist and forming a tight little “o”, making Kurt shiver and shudder, mumbling appreciation above him.

“So good, Dave, so fucking good,” Kurt panted out, his hand gripping harder at the back of Dave’s head but just resting there for now. “Your mouth is so hot, god, I love you.”

Dave hummed at the praise, and Kurt clearly enjoyed the vibrations because he hummed appreciatively back. Dave continued to rock his head back and forth on Kurt, the flat of his tongue pressing up against the underside of Kurt’s cock, and he was able to feel the subtle outlines of his normally invisible veins. Dave groaned, gripping Kurt’s backside tighter with one hand and dropping the other to the bulge in his own pants, unzipping his own fly and pulling himself out through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke. If he wasn’t too consumed with building up Kurt’s tension while relieving his own, he’d have been impressed with himself at how little being unable to see was affecting his dexterity.

“Want to,” Kurt panted out, “want to see you, on me.”

Dave felt the hand on his hand disappear and before he knew it, the red shade was gone. He looked up to see Kurt holding the front of the jersey up to his chest, his small but well defined abs exposed to the basement’s overly bright lighting. As Dave connected with Kurt’s lidded eyes, he felt another jolt of satisfaction spark through him, and the pace of his hand on himself increased, twisting at the head. Kurt was eminating arousal, and Dave couldn’t hold back a grin at that, even with a face full of cock.

He sealed his mouth over Kurt completely, suppressing his gag reflex as Kurt’s head tickled the back of his throat. Kurt threw his head back and cried, hand finding Dave’s head again and threading his fingers through his hair. He whined with pleasure as Dave swallowed around him, over and over, broken vowels and half-whispered obscenities tumbling forth from his mouth. When he was close to running out of air, Dave pulled back, dragging his moist, plump lips along Kurt’s length before the tight circle of his mouth came off Kurt completely with a satisfying pop.

“You can push me,” Dave offered, choking slightly, his voice hoarse. He took the brief pause to lick his hand before it went back to its task of pleasuring himself, now much more pleasing with a slick palm. Kurt said nothing, only tightening his grip on Dave’s hair slightly, urging him forward back onto his cock, manners completely abandoned. Had Dave the space to laugh, he would have, but soon Kurt’s head was passing through the tightness of his wet lips again. Only this time, Kurt’s hips were the driving factor, holding Dave’s head steady.

“So good, so warm, so moist,” Kurt repeated, clearly at a loss for a more elaborate mantra. As he kneeled there, taking Kurt over and over again in his mouth, Dave couldn’t help but feel the deep sense of pride swell up in him again at seeing Kurt like this, at being the source of it; raw and exposed and unable to contain his desire. Dave’s own hand pumped harder, trying to be in time with Kurt’s thrusts, but it became more difficult to maintain as the thrusts increased their intensity while losing their careful rhythm. As Kurt’s movements bordered on completely erratic, Dave found himself building to the edge, his eyes flickering between Kurt’s wanton expression above him, the bunched up jersey hanging just above eye level, and the smooth, spit-coated cock sliding in and out of his own mouth.

When Kurt dropped the jersey, moving both of his hands to the back of Dave’s head, Dave knew that climax was seconds away. He started humming again, both to induce pleasure waves in Kurt and to voice his own, his hand pumping away mercilessly on himself below. Soon Kurt let out a high pitched yelp, shoving Dave’s head entirely on his length as he came, Dave literally seeing red as warm spurts of liquid coated the back of his throat. That was enough to push him completely over the edge too, white sparks flashing behind his eyes, the power of his orgasm nearly knocked him off his knees, the sweet release undoing him as he gargled around the cock seated at the back of his throat.

After a moment passed of both men frozen like that, Kurt eventually relinquished his grip on Dave’s head, slowly pulling out of him, allowing oxygen to blissfully re-enter his lungs, realizing that he’d been momentarily deprived. He looked down, seeing the white streaks coating the concrete but as he fell back, resting on his calves, and caught the sated look in his boyfriend’s eyes, he absolutely refused to care. They’d clean it up in time.

Dave’s tongue flicked at the roof of his mouth, savouring the bitter taste off come as he hummed contentedly, before swallowing the drops of Kurt’s seed down. As he squeezed at his own cock, wringing the last drops of semen onto the floor beneath him, he found himself glancing at the jersey once more. He smiled; he felt like he’d conquered something monumental just now, and he was beaming with pride.

“That,” Dave sighed contentedly, face flush, “was awesome.”

“Mmm,” Kurt nodded in agreement. “Absolutely zero complaints.” He licked his lips wickedly. “Hey Dave; wanna huddle?”

“Ha ha,” Dave rolled his eyes, but he was unable to supress a chuckle all the same. “You are such a freaking nerd.”

He pulled Kurt down to the floor, and before Kurt objected to the pools of white staining his pants, he maneuvered him to a sitting position on his thigh, hooking Kurt’s arms around the base of his neck. They touched foreheads and stared at each other serenely, for an extended period of time, before they brought their lips together for a long, languid kiss.

When they broke it, Kurt leaned in, resting his head against Dave’s shoulder. “You really want to bring the jersey with us to the new apartment? It’s not going to remind you of less pleasant times?”

Dave considered, thumbing the mesh material in a circle against Kurt’s abdomen. He thought about saying no; that he’d climbed his Everest today and nobody cared if you conquered that summit twice. But now he’d stared it down, tackling its presence as he stayed true to himself, the layer of repression had been effectively stripped from the garment. It was no longer a straightjacket.

Dave groaned out loud at his own pun, but seeing as he refused to share it with Kurt for fear he’d never hear the end of it, he opted instead to answer the question originally posed. “Yeah, you know, consider me a big softie if you want, but sometimes I get nostalgic too. Bring it along; I’m sure we’ll find _some_ use for that old thing in the new place.”

Kurt giggled, reverting back to his coy self.  “Silly me, thinking all jocks had a secret weakness for cheerleaders. Good thing I covered my bases and did both in the same year, just in case my Prince Charming was only ever into one.”

“Only one?” Dave pretended to be taken aback. “Who said I didn’t have a thing for cheerleaders? In fact, I distinctly remember hiding a crush on one back in high school.”

“Oh really? How _cliche_.” Kurt snarked back, biting his lip and smirking shyly. “But in that case…”

Kurt reached behind him to the small top that had fallen on the floor in their heated rush. He spreading it out over top of his jersey-clad chest and held it up, as if trying to tell by eye whether or not it was going to fit. When he’d come to his conclusion, he smirked back up at Dave, mischievous glint in his eye.

“…rah, rah, rah. Go team, go.”


End file.
